Dumbledore's Army
by Lucivar
Summary: Jane Granger has never gotten along with her older sister, Hermione but when Draco Malfoy and Percy Weasley are threatening to follow in the defeated Lord Voldemort's steps, Jane finds she must bring together 13 of the strongest fighters agianst the Dark
1. Prologue

**Authors Note:** All original characters from the text of Harry Potter do not belong to me; however, Jane Granger, Lindsay Parkinson, Simon Malfoy, and Brynne Granger, and all characters that do not appear in the original text of Harry Potter do belong to me, and are mine alone. The plot and ideas for this story are mine, and any taking of such ideas will be considered plagerism. (ok, thats an exaggeration, but sounds cool.) Disclaimer: this story was one of those things that just appeared in my head, sat down, and came out like this. It is a complete AU fic that is based very loosely on what J.K. Rowling has given us in the books. Don't get mad at me if you don't like it, it isn't meant to stick to canon at all. It is just a little thing that came from somewhere and wished to be written and published. That said, here is the prologue.

Thanks.

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**Prologue:**

I stood outside the portrait of the Fat Lady, which I knew to be the entrance to the Gryffindor common room, when I was eleven for three hours. I cannot say I accomplished much in that sitting besides a lot of crying and learning a bit about anger, but I can say that the feelings and images will never leave me.

I spent a good amount of my first hour in vain attempts to convince the Fat Lady that I was Hermione Granger's little sister, but when the portrait doubted the truth behind my words she began questioning me on Hogwarts' brightest witch and resident Lioness. It was that night, seventeen years ago, that I realized I didn't know my sister. She had kept a diary of her first two years at school, but the summer after her second year she left it at home buried in the depths of her sock drawer. That was where I found the leather bound journal with "Hermione J. Granger" etched onto the front, just like the one that I had, just like the one that Brynne had. The journals were gifts to each of the Granger girls on their first day at Hogwarts, upon receiving the acceptance letter that my parents started expecting for me and Brynne after Hermione received hers.

She had written in her journal diligently, almost everyday, for those first two years away from home, and the soul laid bare upon those parchment pages in neat black scroll was similar to the sister I once had. In that journal Hermione had spoken of more than just homework and school and the war that was on the brink of tearing apart the wizarding and muggle worlds alike. She spoke of Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley, Ginny Weasley, Draco Malfoy, and countless other friends and enemies she had accumulated over two years.

The Fat Lady asked me who my sister's best friend was, and when I answered correctly with Harry Potter she just gave me a sharp look and said, "Everyone knows that." I gave up and slumped down against the wall, the stones jutting out into my back. An hour passed before anybody came by, and when someone appeared I knew exactly who it was. I scrambled to my feet when I saw the familiar black hair sticking out wildly in all directions and emerald green eyes hidden behind wire-rimmed glasses. Harry Potter was decked out in his red and gold Quidditch robes, his team trailing behind him. Rumor had it that in the upcoming match against Slytherin Harry Potter would snatch the Snitch from underneath Draco Malfoy's nose as he had always done, but I had faith in the blond.

The team gave me a scrutinizing look, but I stood my ground as best I could for being an eleven year old girl staring down seven players, all fourth year and above, of the best team to grace the halls of that school.

"What do you want?" asked a red headed girl whose hand was slipped through Harry Potter's.

I looked at her wondering what harm could be done by my simply being here, standing outside their portrait. The team around her nodded in agreement with her question, each of them wondering what I was doing there. At the time I didn't understand it, I still had a lot to learn about House ties, but in my defense I had only been at Hogwarts for three months, it was nearing winter holiday.

"Looking for Hermione," I responded simply, shrugging my shoulders as if it was no big deal when in reality I really needed to speak to my sister.

"Why?" This time it was Harry Potter himself speaking to me and I immediately realized why the people of my house complained so loudly about him, especially Draco; he spoke as if he were above me. I suppose he was height wise, and age wise, and year wise, but, beyond that, he had no reason to treat me like something foul.

"Don't really see how that concerns you, Potter," I said, my tone imitating those of my Housemates, dripping with disdain and consciously hardening the look on my face into a scowl.

The red headed girl scoffed at me. The rest of the team laughed. "I think it does," he said, "as Hermione is my best friend. What does a Slytherin like you want with her?"

"Yeah, did Malfoy send you up here to do his bidding?" pitched in another.

"If so he has sunk low, asking ickle firsties to do his dirty work. That man truly is a pansy," added another from the back.

I shook my head. "No, Draco doesn't even know who I am, I don't think," I replied, tilting my head to the side pondering this briefly. "No, he doesn't. And as Hermione is your best friend, she is my sister, and what I have to speak to her about does not concern you. Now will you please just let me in?"

They all looked at me like I had grown another head. Silence filled the hallway; it was suffocating. I looked down at my feet. Then laughter echoed off of the walls, entering my left ear, bouncing around in my head a bit, then leaving through my right ear.

"Hermione is an only child," said Harry through his laughter, and the team and him disappeared through the portrait hole. I sank back down on the wall, hot tears pooling behind my eyelids, but before they could fall I saw the familiar bushy head of Hermione pop out from behind the portrait, scanning the hallway for me. She never looked down otherwise she would have seen me. Her eyes filled with relief when she didn't believe me to be there anymore and the portrait shut again.

I sat outside that portrait for another hour wondering why Hermione wouldn't admit to being my sister, or why she hadn't told her friends she had a sister at all. She had two, she had me and Brynne. In the muggle world all three of us were well known, hardly separable, but very different. Hermione was always studious, getting the best grades in school; I was always rebellious, always pushing the boundaries but never getting caught; Brynne was always the sports fanatic, coming home bruised and bleeding from playing too rough.

It seemed in the wizarding world, though, she was Hermione Granger, Gryffindor Head Girl, top of her class, only child; and I was Jane Granger, ickle firstie of Slytherin House. I learned to hate Hermione that night, I learned that hate was the easiest feeling in the world to be consumed by.

Now, I am standing outside of her flat in the wizard part of London, rain pouring down around me, my black robes soaked. The memories of that night are flashing through my mind, and the bitter feelings of hatred are knotting in my stomach. I look down at the note in my hand, twirling it around and around and around. I slip it under the door jam, knock twice, back out of the anti-apparition zones, spin on my heel, and am gone in a flash.

Hermione Granger opens the door of her flat and looks out into the pouring rain, the note clutched in her fist. She recognizes the neat blue handwriting on the outside of the envelope that reads, "To, Hermione Jane Granger, From, Dumbledore's Army." She knows that her sister is somewhere else with another note for another student.


	2. Chapter One

**Authors Notes:** The disclaimer from before remains, I own nothing but my original characters, the order the words appear in, and the plot line. Any plagerism will not be taken well. Okay, so here is the first real chapter. Dunno if anyone is reading this, but maybe if I get an actual chapter up people will be nice and review if they open it up! I don't care if you don't like it, just leave something! Constructive criticism is always helpful. Remember, this came from left field and is creative license at its fullest. **

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**Chapter One:**

I look around at the surroundings I will be calling home for the next five years of my life, whether I want to be here or not. I know somewhere that this is what I want, this is what I have signed up for, but in the pit of my stomach can feel an all too familiar black, squishy ball of despair beginning to form. I have my two trunks open on my tiny twin sized bed, one packed full of normal everyday clothes and robes, the other packed with what I have dubbed work clothes, special books, and such other things required for the job I am here to do.

I am aware three more beds in the room, and four plain wooden doors. One has the picture of a toilet on it, and I suppose it will lead to a bathroom all four occupants of this room will have to share, and the other three I assume lead to closets. I was told we got closets. It is what I consider a perk of this job. I walk to the door closest to my bed, open it, and am not surprised to find a closet. Waving my hand in a tight circle my clothes immediately unfold themselves from my larger trunk and neatly fly to the closet, hanging themselves. I smile to nobody glad I knew how to do such things.

"Wandless magic, who would guess you had it in you," whispers a drawling voice from behind me. I don't have to turn around to know who has decided to join me in the room.

"You don't know a lot about me, Brynne," I respond coolly, forcing my voice to take on the cold edge I worked so hard to perfect, pushing down the urge to rush forward and take her in a hug. My younger sister and I fight even more than I did with Hermione. At least Hermione accepted her hatred for me and just didn't speak to me. Brynne found it necessary to rub in my face that she is marginally better at magic, which is an insult on two levels: one being the fact that she is six years younger and just barely out of school, two being that she was a Hufflepuff. Brynne Granger is the younger sister to the second brightest student to pass through the halls of Hogwarts and to the second student to have their wand broken and expelled from the school. I can honestly say that I have no idea how she ended up in Hufflepuff. She really isn't all that just and true, either. I would argue she is more evil than I am.

"I do know you aren't supposed to do magic without a wand; that's illegal."

"Do shut up, Brynne," drifts a third voice and I spin around quickly to see if I am hearing correctly. I can feel my lips turning down in a frown when the familiar face of Hermione comes into my view, her bushy hair plaited neatly behind her head and three trunks levitating behind her, one no doubt used solely for books.

"What's your problem, Granger?"

All three of us turned to look who had decided to join the party. Lindsey Parkinson, younger sister to Pansy Parkinson; and for once I am glad I am not the only Slytherin in the room. I throw a smile at Lindsay as she walks in, followed closely by Simon Malfoy who is dragging two trunks, and levitating two behind him. I roll my eyes skyward at the scene; Simon has been our lackey since the first year.

"None of your business, Parkinson," snaps Hermione, returning to unpacking her things. "Why do you get to room with a friend, Jane?"

I look at Hermione, smirking maliciously, the corners of my mouth tugging slightly upward and my lips pressing into a thin line. "Because I have to put up with the two biggest bitches in the world, I at least deserve a friend in here. If I had my way, you two would be staying in a shack and Simon could have one of your beds." I wave my hand once more, my trunks shutting and locking themselves before coming to rest on the top shelf of my closet.

Lindsay smiles at me, and I can see the memories flicking by behind her eyelids. Lindsay has always been fond of me, she told me so herself once a few years ago. I brought a lot of firsts to the Slytherin House, and definitely added to the diversity of it all, never backing down from a challenge and having just enough drive to go to any means to prove people wrong. I think I got the need to prove people wrong from spending so much time with Hermione growing up, her always clutching a book or knowing just what paragraph to point at to dispel one's thoughts on a certain subject. She often thought you could make a person see light between right and wrong by using examples from books; she was oh so wrong on that thought, and I didn't need a book to prove it to her.

I was the first muggle-born to be sorted into the house, and after the first year, proved I was worthy to sport the green and silver colors. I was also the first Slytherin to be expelled from the school, in my seventh year, and now had to manage in the wizarding world without a wand. It was a feat not easily accomplished, especially since most wizards and witches know who I am. I'm famous for my expulsion in the same sort of way Harry Potter is famous for his parents dying. It was a circumstance out of my control, but necessary.

"You know Jane, it would take me hours to unpack properly." Lindsay's voice shakes me back to reality. She is raising her eyebrows and smiling suggestively at me.

"You know Lindsay, it would take me an hour to unpack you properly without a wand," I respond, holding my palm out, Lindsay's holly wand flying neatly to it. "With a wand, however, it will take about two minutes."

Muttering spells and pointing the wand in different directions, items fly gracefully from Lindsay's trunk and into the closet, or onto the nightstand. I smile broadly at my ability to still do magic after ten years of doing so without a wand; despite popular belief wandless magic is very different from normal magic, and I find that reverting back to using a wand takes more energy these days, though does take less time and is more accurate.

"Now that you are definitely not allowed to do!" shouted Brynne, pulling out her own wand and pointing at the one in my hand. "_Accio Wand!"_

I see a horrified and angry look snake onto Lindsay's face as her wand flies from my fingertips into the outstretched one of my little sister, a girl Lindsay always found more annoying every time they met. I look to my little sister, disbelief pulsing through my veins. Since when does a Hufflepuff stand up to a Slytherin, and since when does Brynne stand up to me?

"Brynney, when have I ever cared about what the rules say?" I ask in a condescending tone, the one that makes Brynne shrink back slightly. I mutter the summoning spell in my head, watching as Brynne wraps her fingers around the wand tighter to fight my spell. I close my eyes to fight off the feeling of a hammer tapping softly against the inside of my skull.

"Never," says Hermione, moving around her own bed to stand next to Brynne; seems she still accepts her as a sister. "That is why you got expelled you know."

I laugh, but it isn't an amused laugh, it is hollow and reminiscent. "Hermione, you only know what you read."

I shake my head trying to dislodge the hammer from inside my skull; it's hammering steadily growing stronger, causing me more discomfort. Wandless magic might help keep me afloat in the wizarding world, but without sufficient headache potion and dreamless sleep draughts I would have died long ago from the amount of energy it takes from me. I feel my feet slipping from beneath and stammer backwards a bit. I feel arms wrap around my shoulders to keep me steady, the familiar grasp of Simon who has been holding me up since I was eleven. I nod my head, ignoring the pain that shoots behind my eyes and he releases me.

I step forward a few feet to stand before my two sisters, all three of us standing about the same height. I reach my hand out, closing my fingers around the wand, yanking it from Brynne's grasp. "Steal from me all you want, kid, but don't mess with my friends."

The door bangs open, announcing the presence of someone new. Hermione snaps her head around quickly to see Severus Snape stroll in, dressed in his normal plain black robes, his greasy black hair tied back with a dark green ribbon. Brynne steps back lightly, shielding herself behind Hermione in case he is here to yell about all the commotion. Simon and Lindsay just go about watching the scene unfold before them, both sitting on Lindsay's bed snacking on Bertie Bott's Every Flavored Beans.

My back is towards the door, but from the icy chill that takes over the room and that strange feeling of someone watching you, I know it is Severus who has entered. I have spent far too long with his gaze following me to know that the churning of my stomach announces his presence alone.

I turn my head slowly to look towards him. Severus looks around the room, an amused expression on his face, before turning to look at the three of us standing to the left side of the room. "Will this work out all right?" he asks to no one particular. Hermione shakes her head along with Brynne.

"Yes, Severus, it will be fine. I promised you that Hermione, Brynne, and I wouldn't kill each other," I say stepping away from my sisters, and walking to my closet, I reach up and pull down the smaller dark red trunk. "So what do you want?"

I see Hermione watching me as I unlatch the trunk manually and began taking items out by hand to avoid getting in trouble with the man leading this operation. He knows I can do magic still, that I have the power and the concentration, but he just doesn't think it wise to do so often. He says people will notice and I will land in Azkaban. I tell him I would much rather be there.

"Right, I doubt you will even be at the castle too much," Severus replies moving to stand next to me, peering over my shoulder and into the trunk before plucking something out. It is a small, leather bound journal with the name, "Jane Margaret Granger" engraved onto the front, and a leather tie to keep it closed. From the corner of my vision I see Hermione and Brynne exchange looks; I am aware that it is exactly like the one that their mum had given them all those years back.

I glance at his hand as he removes the item from my personal trunk, feelings of hatred and longing lodging in my chest and it takes me a few moments to recover. I automatically slip on my carefree mask, I feel my eyes drain of emotion, my mouth straightening into a line, and my complexion growing pale. I can't see it, but I can feel it.

"You won't need this any time soon will you, Jane?" I shake my head. "This is the one from this past summer, right?"

I nod my approval. "Take it, Severus. I don't need it back."

And I don't. Nothing will erase anything that is written in those journals from my memory. Details may fade, and words may become twisted, but feelings remain intact. I look at Hermione and Brynne, standing so close to me physically, yet so far away emotionally. Hermione looks disgusted and turns back to unpacking her things, taking books out and placing them on a bookshelf between her and Brynne's bed. I realize that Lindsay and I have one between us, as well. I turn back to my trunk, packing back in identical light brown leather journals, each one engraved with my name and a year on the bottom right hand corner. I move it back to the top shelf in my closet and gently push against the door until I hear the soothing sound of the latch clicking into place. I look back over my shoulder expectantly, and am relieved when Severus is standing there watching me from the doorway. The hammering begins to subside and the hatred lodged in my chest diminished a bit, slipping down into my stomach where I can at least lump it in with my despair.

I sit down on my bed, he casts furtive glances around the room then moves in front of my closet door, waving his wand, the sound of four locks clicking into place. It is a spell him and I came up with, I can open my door at my will, and no one else can without knowing the charm placed on it in the first place.

"Jane," he says, his hardened voice echoing around the silent quarters. I know he isn't really distant from me, in fact, he is probably the closest thing I have to a friend. I nod and grab my messenger bag from the floor beside my night table. We exit the room together and I feel two stares filled with pity on my back and two filled with hatred.


	3. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two:**

I take a deep breath and look around the room at all nametags of the people about to be gathered before me. I had gone to school with many of these people, or at least had them as professors while I attended Hogwarts. I know each and everyone of them by name, able to match a face to it, and I am proud of that fact. This is a tight knit group, of only the best in the business of fighting Dark Arts, each one brought here for their specialties. We are to be seated at a round table, an expression of equal footing and level of importance, no one person at the head. Working around the table to the right the nametag next to mine reads, "Lindsay Parkinson." I am glad to have a friend next to me, and I think Severus placed her there on purpose. Continuing around, next to her is Simon Malfoy, then Luna Lovegood followed by Brynne Granger, Hermione Granger, Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley, Ginevra Weasley, Bill Weasley, Neville Longbottom, Remus Lupin, and Severus Snape next to me on my left.

The door clicks open across the darkened room and I raise my eyes to watch the twelve people file into the room, each one looking around the table for their nametag and taking their seat once they found it. Lindsay sits next to me, patting my shoulder in a supportive friend manner, and Simon reaches across her to place his hand on top of mine which is clutching my black executive notebook that has various notes scribbled in it about each person, what their job with be within the group, who they are rooming with, etc. All are important to making sure this operation goes off without a hitch.

The chair on my left moves slightly backward, and the leather squeals as Severus sits down. I take a deep breath, let it out slowly, and straighten my back up in my chair. Fear is a weakness only if you can't conquer it, and in front of this group, I will seem fearless.

"Welcome," booms Severus Snape's voice from my left, "you may all wonder why you are assembled here today, and the answer to that is simple. We have word that Percy Weasley has sought out Draco Malfoy, and both are considered to be a threat to the wizarding and muggle communities."

No one looks shocked at this news, and Ron Weasley's face takes on a hardened, disgusted look at the mention of his brother. I briefly wonder whether or not that is what Hermione's own face looks like at the mention of me. My questions of this are set to rest as I stand up to address the group and her eyes glaze over with hatred and her lips purse together, her cheeks flushing to life.

"Now, I believe you all are rather well aquatinted with each other, but allow me to introduce myself and my colleagues." I motion to the two people on my right with a slight wave of my hand, my eyes skating over the faces of each person present, but never dropping from them. "This is Lindsay Parkinson and Simon Malfoy. For those of you who don't remember me, I am Jane Granger. The younger girl next to Hermione is Brynne Granger."

My gaze drifts to Harry Potter, his words of seventeen years ago flowing back into my mind, like water breaking from behind a dam and I have to bite the inside of my cheek not mention it. He is looking at my sister with hurt and confusion etched onto his features, his eyes exploring her face for some sign as to why she might lie. Ronald Weasley and Ginevra Weasley just seem shocked, and their faces are turning deep red in color.

Severus continues the speech. I stay standing next to him and if this surprises him he makes no outward expression of it. "This group is here to plan and take down Draco Malfoy and Percy Weasley, and due to the fact that the phrase, "Order of the Phoenix" is so well known," – at this mention all eyes turn to me—"we have decided to call ourselves "Dumbledore's Army" once again.

"It is not only appropriate considering the people gathered here and what they've accomplished under that name, but in light of the Order of the Phoenix it will be long forgotten. Now, the original members here have obviously roles in this exchange, but I am sure many of you are wondering what the other four of us are doing at this meeting."

At this many heads nod, and he continues on his little rant. "Brynne Granger takes after her eldest sister and is also very good with strategy and planning, so Ron and Luna, she will be working with you. Lindsay Parkinson is quite adept at Potion making and will be working closely with me; Simon Malfoy can give you, Harry, a run for your money in Defense, and Remus agrees with me on that, so he will be training with both of you, and you, Hermione, in protection spells." Severus pauses to allow those taking notes to finish writing.

"Now, as for Jane Granger, she is team leader so you will all listen to her authority." I keep my chin jutted up, my eyes floating lazily over people's faces, taking in all that they are displaying. Most everyone is shocked, save for myself and Severus, and Remus Lupin who knew about this long before we sent out the invitation. Immediately voices shout to be heard over one another and I raise my hands up, and surprisingly, after a few moments silence once again shrouds the room.

I close my eyes for a brief second, focusing solely on Hermione a few seats over, concentrating on her mind. She, along with everyone else, has no idea what's going on. I can see everything inside her mind, all her memories, but she can't feel me or see me rummaging through her memories. I find what I am looking for, back out as silently as I had invaded, and open my eyes to the curious stares of my old classmates.

"I am team leader," I repeat, "and for any of you who would like to know why I assure you it doesn't pertain to you at all." My voice is hard and smug and filled with disdain for the people around me, my years of training paying off as I continue. I look at each one of them individually. "I promise that I am not a women you would like to trifle with, but I suspect you already knew that." A few people nod, but Harry Potter decides he has something to add.

"Yeah, because you will mercilessly torture someone!" he shouts from his seat, standing up and sending the black leather chair shooting backward to hit against the far wall.

"Sit down, Mr. Potter," commands Severus, but I place my hand on his arm, letting him know to back down.

"If after all these years you still believe me to be guilty of that, Potter, than you are much like my sister. You believe only what you read and can back up with solid proof. That is what has lead us to this point, to rounding up ex Death Eaters and people who wish to rule the world."

I hear a laugh to my left and turn to look at Ginevra Weasley, the girl who had her hand laced with Harry's all those years back. "Like you don't want to rule the world, Granger," the insult of the surname is thick off her tongue, she briefly looks at Hermione, then back to me, "that's what this is, you're working for Draco like you were all through your years here. You just want to rule the world with him."

I instantly feel Severus tense up to my left, and hear the squeal of leather to my right as both Lindsay and Simon rocket out of their chairs, a snapping sound of mahogany wood splintering against stone wall resounding after them; Slytherins never were known for keeping their tempers, actually, neither were Gryffindors, and we had somehow managed to fill a small room in the dungeons of the castle with the two quarreling sides.

I put my hands up, and while it didn't relieve the tension, I was happy to feel silence settle down around the room again. "Ms. Weasley I don't even like the people in this world, present company included, and have no desire to try and rule them. I would much rather use those nuclear bombs, kill the whole place, and be done with it. Now, if you don't mind, I would like to accomplish something a bit more productive in our first meeting that just getting to know each other and bringing up old issues." I flick my wrist behind me, in a circle to the right, and both leather and mahogany chairs pull themselves neatly beneath Lindsay and Simon, forcing them to sit down; I repeat the procedure with Harry Potter's chair, before taking my own seat. Severus sits down in unison with me, his face calm and neutral, but the worry emanating from him in all directions like heat from a stove.

"How do you do that?" The voice surprises me. If anyone was to ask, I expected it to be the deep, hoarse voice of Ronald Weasley, or the high, nasally voice of my little sister. I do not, however, expect to hear the dreamy, far away voice of Luna Lovegood drift to my eardrums, who had, until this point, sat quietly in her chair staring peacefully at the wooden rafters of the ceiling.

Everyone looks at her and I am slightly comforted to know that we all just had the same thought meaning that perhaps this isn't a hopeless venture after all. I shrug my shoulders.

"She was doing in earlier!" chimes in Brynne, faces turning to look at her as she speaks. I see Lindsay roll her eyes as she turns back to the note pad in front of her, continuing with her doodle. "I know she isn't supposed to do magic, that's why they broke her wand. She used Lindsay's wand, too! To do magic."

"What else would she use a wand for?" asks Lindsay, looking up and giving Brynne a look that suggests she is too stupid to be related to Hermione and myself. I smack Lindsay, Simon sniggers, and I don't think anyone else caught the innuendo.

I began to have that feeling when someone is looking at you, but it wasn't the normal cold, worried stare I could pinpoint as Severus' from a mile away; it belongs to someone else. I turn my neck to see Harry looking at me funny, his mouth twists to one side causing his nose to bend oddly and scrunch up, and his eyebrows are pulled down tight.

"Right, well, I think that is enough chair breaking and screaming for the night," says Remus from the corner of the table, in all the commotion I had completely forgotten he was there. "Thank you, Jane for fixing those chairs by the way, but rest up, all of you. We will meet three times a week, but other than that, some of us have classes to teach and students to deal with. The rest of you are free to roam about, the password to get from the main castle to this section should be posted near the doors of your rooms. Goodnight."

I stand up, slipping my execute notebook under my arm along a few various papers, estatic to leave this room. I avoid looking at anyone else and hop around chairs and people to get to the door.

"Jane!" I turn to look at Severus Snape, sending him a glare I pray will make him regret calling my name. I watch as the whole room slows down, the world passing now in deliberate slow motion: others so they can catch pieces of our conversation and to torment me.

He looks at me, an almost serene look on his face which is sort of like the amused expression he was wearing earlier in my quarters. I know he will not respond until I answer him and I know that if I don't answer him he will keep saying my name, chasing after me down the hallway.

I weigh my options, deciding slow motion fate is easier to conquer. "Yes, Severus," I ask with mock sweetness, my eyelashes fluttering and teeth flashing in a schoolgirl smile.

A puff of air hisses out of his nostrils, out of his lungs, to show his amusement. It's not a laugh, but he recognizes that I am playing along with him. "I was just going to say your potion is in the Potions classroom so you can pick it up any time tomorrow, and you are teaching tomorrow, as well."

I roll my eyes. I haven't really left Hogwarts since I attended school here, I have been picking up my potion the first Monday of every other month, and I have taught sixth and seventh years basic wandless magic since I was twenty-four. I am now twenty-seven.

The man just needs to cause mischief. "Yes, thank you, I am well aware of that. You, sir, need to remember to make me two batches next time as I will be gone for an overlapping three months."

He nods and skirts past, out into the hallway. "Evil git," I mutter under my breath and hear a snort of laughter from behind me recognizable as Simon's. "Shut up," I say, walking out into the hallway with Simon and Lindsay, happy to be away from that room of people, all of whom fell silent and listened unabashedly to the conversation.


	4. Chapter Three

**Chapter Three:**

I stand there, on top of the white 'x' on the floor, and stare straight ahead at the cold, damp stone walls that had water and blood from previous beatings or killings trickling down them in little streams, creating a circular room. There are chains hanging from the ceiling, attaching to handcuffs; I've seen people tortured here before, lucky enough to only watch and never suffer their pain.

"Are you ready Ms. Granger?" I don't turn my gaze from the spot of a dark red stain on the wall five feet in front of me. The lights are dim, the room only lit by four candles placed exactly seven feet apart towards the top of the wall.

"Ms. Granger?" It is a second voice that addresses me this time, a voice I do not recognize.

"Slytherins are not afraid, Ms. Granger," says the first voice. He speaks softly, barely above a whisper, but his tone commands respect and response.

I turn my head, seeing the silhouette of a blonde man, his hair falling in front of his eyes and around his ears, shaggy; it is the exact same way I remember him wearing it back when he was seventeen which causes me to smirk that he isn't the only person who is stuck in the past.

"I promise Mr. Malfoy, I am not afraid of you. I have no reason to be."

I hear a deep, hoarse laugh from my left and slowly turn my head in that direction, the silhouette of a tall red headed man coming into my view. His nose is long and pointy, and he is wearing glasses that don't compliment his facial structure.

"Please, Ms. Granger, do you know who we are?" he asks, mirth in his tone and dancing in his eyes.

A puff of air escapes my lungs and a smile tugs at my lips. "And you, Mr. Weasley, I could kill with my eyes closed."

He frowns at me, roughly grabbing the upper part of my left arm in his hand, squeezing it tightly, but not the way Draco has grabbed my arms before. The gesture from Percy Weasley is meant to show power, not meant to hurt me. He is truly a Gryffindor at heart.

"Watch it, little girl," he growls at me, spit flying from his mouth and hitting me in the face. I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from showing my disgust; it will make him believe he has power of me, something no goody-Gryffindor will ever have.

"Now, now Percy. Let her go. She is here to help us, aren't you Ms. Granger?" I nod my head, still looking at Percy, my eyebrows pulled together in confusion.

"What else would I be here to do?" I ask them, my tone suggesting the stupidity of such a question. I was, after all, a Slytherin at heart, and Slytherins knew about the importance of House pride.

He nods his head, stepping in front of me and holding out my left arm. He pulls back the sleeve of my dark forest green robes, pointing his wand at it, and mumbles a spell. A black snake slithers out of the tip of his wand and my eyes widen as it wraps itself around my forearm; I knew what was about to happen, but it didn't make experiencing it any less terrifying. It's about glory, I reminded myself as the snake bites my arm and its form is imprinted with black ink onto my pink flesh.

I can feel tears stinging behind my eyelids, burning as they slide down my cheeks, the salty taste around the edges of my mouth a harsh reminder of my fate in this world. I hear Draco asking me a question, but I can't make out his word, I can't open my eyes to look at him. I feel a sharp pain start in my right arm, and close my eyes tighter.

"Slytherins are not afraid, Ms. Granger, nor do they show pain. Open your eyes." I do as the harsh voice tells me. "Good, now, you will not tell you comrades anything about this, and if they find out or ask, tell them you are a spy. Understood?" I nod quickly. "Good, now leave."

I yank my arm out of his grip, and am surprised when I feel his fingers closing around it once again. "Percy, leave us for a moment." The red headed boy looks at me, smirks, and struts out of the circular room by way of a wooden door in the floor that I hadn't taken notice of before now.

"Here," Draco says, holding up a long, slender wooden object, "take this." He shoves the wand into my hands before I can respond and I feel the magic flowing from me into it and back, the connection is strong. It must be a replica of my old wand.

"Will you answer a question for me?" I ask sweetly, turning to look at him, consciously forcing my lips to curve up in a small, seductive smile.

"Of course," he answers stepping forward. "What's on your mind?"

I look towards the wooden trap door Percy disappeared through, nodding my head in its direction. "How did you end up working with a Gryffindor? A Gryffindor who is a traitor no less. Perhaps not a blood-traitor, like the rest of the clan, but a traitor to his family. I always wondered that."

He looks at me, raising his eyebrows in what could either be a look of surprise or a look of being impressed. "You're right, he is a traitor to his family, but so are you, aren't you? Turning on the bookworm and the badger?"

"No, they turned on me." I glare at him for bringing it up and tuck the wand neatly into the inside pocket of my robes. "I will see you next week, Mr. Malfoy."

I wake up in my bed, people hovering around me and giving me strange looks. It takes me a few moments to register where I am and why I am there, and that all thirteen members of the army I've assembled are now standing in my quarters. I raise my head slightly only to be pushed back down by a cold hand. My eyes lock with those of Severus Snape, his dark brown eyes boring into mine.

"No, lie back," he says, commanding and loud. I do again as I am told. I look down at my left arm, tugging the sleeping gown sleeve down to cover up the tail of the black symbol that is permanently tattooed to my skin. He holds a bottle filled with pink liquid to my mouth and pulls on my hair, causing my head to tilt back. I drink down the potion, the bitter taste remaining in my throat, my tongue lashing around the inside of the mouth to try and wipe any remaining drops away.

Severus turns to look at the room. "Lindsay, Hermione, will you stay and watch Jane? The rest of you may return to whatever it is you were doing before this event." Everyone moves, all exiting the tiny room except for my sister and friend. I close my eyes, hoping the two will get the hint to leave me alone for a few moments. When I hear the sound of the shower running, and another door closing, I am happy.

"Jane, you look like you could use a shower. You are all covered in sweat." It is Lindsay's voice talking to me. I move to sit up, the pain shooting through my entire body, I let out a scream. Hermione watches me from the other side of the room, I send her a defiant glare as Lindsay moves to help me.

"I'm fine," I say through gritted teeth, holding the pain inside of me. I force myself out of the bed, throwing the covers back and I hear Lindsay gasp. I look at her, and for the first time in my life the youngest Parkinson looks shaken. I turn my frustrated look to my sister whose mouth is agape, one finger pointing at me left arm.

"You're bleeding," she bluntly states.

"I'm fine," I say once again moving across the small room and into the bathroom, closing the latch behind me, reveling in the feel of the steam swirling around me. I slip the nightgown down around my ankles; the left side of the baby blue gown is now a dark red color.

A knock on the door is followed by the concerned voice of Hermione Granger. "Jane, let me in." It isn't a request, it is a command.

"Let me think about that," I say, stepping into the hot water, wincing as it trickles into the wound on my arm.

"Jane Margaret, open this door, right now!" she shouts from outside, banging her hand against the wooden frame once again.

"You're a witch, aren't you?" I ask laughing, "can't you use other methods to open the damn thing?" I grab the bottle of shampoo and lather up my hair.

"That would be a Slytherin thing to do, entering without asking for permission."

I close my eyes, running my hands through my hair and squeezing it until the locks are no longer wet, but damp, reaching behind me I push down the knob and the water shuts off. I can't even take a peaceful shower without my sister pestering me. Severus was right, this is definitely one of my stupider ideas. I grab the towel with my initials etched on the bottom and wrap it around my torso. I look at my left arm, the black snake writhing in small circles. I wave my right hand over it, muttering the spell to make it blend with the rest of my skin, but to no avail. I need my wand to do this one. I raise my eyes to the ceiling, slowly letting the air out of my lungs in exasperation. I tuck my left arm against my stomach and fling open the door.

"Technically, you did ask for permission," I say brushing past her to my closet, pulling down the red trunk, and walking back to the bathroom. I move my hand behind my head, and the door clicks shut behind me. I smile at my reflection before pulling out the wand from the secret compartment in the lid of the trunk, waving it towards the door.

"Damnit, Jane! You locked it!" comes the booming and infuriated voice of my sister, the handle jiggling to punctuate her words. I flash a large smile at myself in the mirror, sighing happily to myself.

"I love being a witch!" I call back to her, pointing my wand at my arm now and muttering the blending spell. A nude color jets out of the tip of my wand and spreads evenly over the black ink snake on my arm, fading slowly away from my vision. Pointing the wand at my hair, I flick it twice to the left marveling as my hair straightens out, curls up at the bottom, and hangs loosely around my face.

"Are you doing magic again?" calls Brynne. I assume she has taken a spot next to Hermione on the outside of the door.

I pick up a barrette from the inside of my toiletries part of my personal trunk, pulling the front part of my hair back and clipping it into place. "Much better," I say to the mirror, which to my surprise, responds.

"You look lovely, dear, but could use a touch of make-up!" the mirrors says brightly, and I can almost picture a smiling face in the reflection.

"Agreed," I say, pulling some foundation and eye shadow out and applying it to my face. The effect is nice. Any blemishes I had fade away just like the tattoo on my arm, and the dark brown eye shadow illuminates the darkness of my hair and my eyes.

"Jane! You shouldn't be doing magic! It is illegal."

I put everything away, muttering a quick Scourgify charm at the bathroom before zipping my wand safely back into the secret pocket of my trunk. I unlock the door by hand and carefully open the door, Hermione and Brynne both leaning off the jam.

"Lindsay, care to help me with classes today?" I cast a questioning glance at Lindsay who is seated on her bed reading a book on Advanced Potions, one of many we had to read back in our seventh year.

"Sure," she replies, flipping the page in her book and not looking up. "As long as you feed me first."

"Sure, lunch starts soon." I put my trunk back in the top of my closet and stare at my selection of clothing. I opt for a light gray skirt that is slightly longer than knee length with black ribbon tying in a bow around the hips, a black tank top, and a deep red cardigan to go over it. I change the outfit and pull out my plain back teacher's robes, and some low heels, slipping into both simultaneously. I turn to find both Brynne and Hermione staring at me, giving me the same 'you can't be serious' look.

"What?"

"How can you teach, you can't do magic?" asks Brynne, at the same time Hermione says, "You were just bleeding, how can you move about so chipper?"

I look at both of them, then raise my eyebrows at Lindsay who just shrugs before looking back down at her book. "Ok, first Brynne," I say moving towards the bookcase in between Lindsay's and mine's bed, plucking a book off the shelf and tossing it at her, "read this."

"What is it?" she asks inquisitively, turning the book over in her hands.

"It is the rule book, chapter seven is all about wizarding laws and regulations regarding magic. It says specifically that once of age a wizard or witch can do magic without consequence."

"But you had your wand snapped," she says, matter-of-factly. Each time she says this it is as if to remind me of that fact, like I could forget that I had spent the last ten years of my life trying to get by in the wizarding world without one.

"I know, thank you. As long as I don't use one, I can do magic. I learned wandless magic here, just like every other student, and taught myself more after the trial. So it is not illegal, otherwise I think I might in Azkaban."

She tilts her head to the side, flipping casually through the book. I turn to look at Hermione. "As for you, I can be so chipper because I just took a shower, cleaned myself up, and have to seem chipper because I have sixth year Gryffindors followed by seventh year Ravenclaws. "

She opens her mouth to reply, but Lindsay dog-ears the page she is on, placing the book back on the bookshelf, and turns to look at Hermione. "And as much as watching you two attempt to belittle your sister is, we have classes to teach, and a lunch to get to. Ciao!"

I laugh and roll my eyes as I follow her out of the room, shutting my closet door with a wave of my hand as I leave, knowing full well that if left open Hermione and Brynne would have no reservations about prying into my life.


	5. Chapter Four

**Usual disclaimer applies. **

**Chapter Four:**

I have always found men wearing jewelry a strange habit. It is more common in the wizarding world, which at first glance I found more strange than the habit itself. The more I think about it, the more sense it makes. It is only the sons of purebloods who continue the fad in this world.

There is a seventh year Ravenclaw whom I teach every third Monday of the month who wears the same necklace at every meeting. It is a thin piece of wood, rounded on the ends in a shape similar to that of a muggle surf board, only slightly elongated and wider around the middle. It has a pale blue raven in the center, most likely a cut sapphire stone.

His name is Mark Gibbon, and he gives me the least amount of trouble of my Ravenclaw class, which worries me. Even in this time there are very few pureblood families who are blood traitors; most are still tied to the practices of Voldemort, choosing to follow those who resurrect his ideals. Having someone like Mark Gibbon giving me very little trouble, especially with my expulsion charges, can mean one of two things: he knows something about Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Weasley, or my ties to their actions, or he actually likes me. The former seems more plausible.

I contemplate asking Lindsay to watch the actions of the students who I have the displeasure of dedicating my time to. I actually shouldn't complain, it gives me something to do to pass my time in this world and allows me to brush up on my own skills. It is draining work, though.

"This way," I say leading her down a long corridor on the fourth floor of the castle. I open a heavy wooden door with a flick of my wrist and immediately feel the toll it takes on my magical reserve. I fight off the impulse to sway on my feet and close my eyes until the dizzy spell passes. The class looks at me as I enter the room.

"Afternoon," I greet them, and they return it, the same amount of disdain from their voices as was in mine. I set my messenger bag down on the table, pulling out the essays from within that I had assigned to this class the month before. I had to have a written part of the course, too, according to Professor Snape.

"Some of you did remarkably well," I say, holding the parchments in my hands, "and the grades ranged from one hundred to… not one hundred." A few students who were sure they'd received high marks laugh, while others groan at this news. I just smile as I hand half the stack to Lindsay and we work on quickly handing back the essays.

"Now, for today's lesson you will be doing silent banishing charms, followed by silent levitation charm, then bring the object back to you with the summoning charm." A girl in the back raises her hand and I raise my eyebrows to acknowledge her question.

"Didn't we do that at our last meeting?" she asks, a little upset that we haven't reached a new subject yet. Even after ten years I still find summoning, banishing, and the simplest spells the hardest ones to focus on because they seem like they should be second nature. The students are already cocky about their magical abilities and it makes me frustrated that they don't get drained the same way I do.

"Yes," I reply, and then it comes to me. The best idea I think I have ever had. "However, this time there will be a spin on it Ms. Mackernen." The class grumbles at this news, and some students sarcastically thank Ms. Mackernen for getting them extra work. I turn to Lindsay and she has the same wicked glint in her eye that I had in my smile. "Mind fetching Professor Snape for me? I need his permission before I do this." She nods and I turn back to the class. After a few moments of silence I command them to work and move around the room, correcting wrist flicks and concentrating looks.

Severus Snape appears in my classroom, followed by a still smirking Lindsay. The students look up and immediately stop all activities at the announcement of his presence.

"So what is this assignment of yours, Ms. Granger?"

That man always had a way to cut straight to the point of the conversation; it is sort of annoying. The more I think about it I realize that it is a true Slytherin trait: Severus does it, Lindsay does it, Simon does it, Draco does it, and I do it. The only people I speak with who don't do it are the people who aren't associated with the House of Slytherin.

I motion my arm to the window on the far side of the room; he follows me into the corner. "I would like your permission to take the students wands for a week and allow them to understand the full meaning of wandless magic." He looks at me for a moment, a stunned look on his face.

"Absolutely not," he says, turning away from me and stalking back across the room to the door.

"But Severus!" He turns and gives me a hard look for calling him by his first name and I wince at my mistake. "Please, they are getting cocky with their abilities and don't get my lessons!"

"That is your problem, Ms. Granger. There must be another way to get such a point across."

I shake my head. "No, there isn't. Nobody gets it, not even you!" It is his turn to wince, before replacing his neutral look.

"Ms. Granger, watch your tone. You are not technically a professor here, and your services can be discontinued," he warns harshly. I cannot stop my mouth from falling open and the hatred lodging itself in my chest; it is a feeling I have gotten used to.

I nod my head and summon my messenger back to my hands from across the room. The anger and magic combined are too much for my system; I wobble backwards on my feet, losing my balance temporarily.

"No," I bite out in a hushed tone laced with the anger I am feeling; I catch a glimpse of Lindsay who looks worried. She always said I was one of the few Slytherins that didn't keep my emotions in check.

"Yes, they can be, Ms. Granger."

I shake my head. "No, they can't. I hold more cards than you do in this situation Severus." The look he sends me is warning, letting me know to not speak of such things in present company but I really don't care. I trusted him, foolishly. I shake my head, and walk past him. "Fine, you take over my classes for the next three months then."

He follows me into the hallway, Lindsay and the class of seventh year Ravenclaws in his wake. "Ms. Granger, stop this instant! You aren't meant to leave for another two weeks; you'll die if you leave now."

I pause, but don't turn to face him. His tone, for once, is thick with concern. "My life doesn't hold much for me, Professor Snape." I start walking again, practically jogging down the three flights of stairs to the entrance hall where I see my two sisters, along with Harry and Ron, standing near the front door.

"Hello, traitor," greets Ron. I nod my head in his direction, wondering if I can summon my red trunk up here without help of my wand. It is worth I shot. I raise my hand, palm facing out flat against the air in front of me, and shout _Accio_ as loud as I can, focusing on a mental picture of my trunk. To my surprise I hear doors opening and closing, and then the trunk is in my hands.

"Jane, don't!" It is Severus again. He is jogging towards me from the stairs, his black teacher's robes billowing out behind him. I snap my fingers and instantly my wand appears, and I smile cruelly, pointing it at him. He stops dead in his tracks.

"I told you, Severus, I hold more cards in this deal."

This time it is Hermione who speaks, but her voice is cold and distant, uncaring. Her eyes betray her when I look her way, though; filled with curiosity and worry. "Jane what on earth are you doing? Where did you get a wand!"

I look back at everyone who had now gathered in the entrance hall and I mentally curse myself for being so careless, Draco will be furious if people ever find out that I am linked to him.

"Don't follow me," I say, backing away from them slowly, the familiar hammering of a headache pounding against the inside of my skull. Severus is right, I will die without my potion, but it is a risk I am willing to take. This is one of those things I am about to rush into foolishly, but I know that I'm correct in doing so. The last thing I hear before I reach the end of the anti-apparition zones and 'pop' away is the sound of feet running after me, and the sound of worried Severus Snape who keeps shouting, "catch her, she is on a suicide mission!"


End file.
